


of rotund roses and forget-me-nots

by TheAngryKimchi



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Festival, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Short & Sweet, au-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngryKimchi/pseuds/TheAngryKimchi
Summary: The night was a flurry of dresses and capes. Flowers raining down on the dancers from spelled tree branches. A constant motion of colour and music. And Loki’s heart ached as he watched his brother for the first hours of the night. As he danced with both women and men, twirling them around in his arms and baring his neck whenever he threw his head back to let out booming laughs. All the while Loki sulked at the great table, refusing any advances or requests coming his way with a pleasing enough smile.The Fates’ contempt for Loki must be very great indeed.-Or Thor and Loki attend the Alf celebration of Love.
Relationships: Loki/Thor, Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 107





	of rotund roses and forget-me-nots

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's everyone!
> 
> This little story came out of the blue as I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but here it is~! Enjoy 💕  
> (The change between tenses is deliberate^^)

The Alf celebration of Love takes place a little more than a month after Yule. It’s a grand affair that Loki had heard magnificent tales of, but never wanted to be part of. 

Of course, whatever Loki wants, Loki never gets. Thus, this year he had the misfortune to be sent to Alfheim; with Thor no less. 

They reached the Great Elf Tree in their formal armours two days before the celebration, but the King refused to talk diplomacy with them until after the feast was done. Hence, Thor and Loki spent the days lazing around, watching as the elfin servants scurried around, putting up flower garlands and strips of pale coloured silken cloths to hang from branch to branch between the great Banyan trees. 

And when the day had finally come, the brothers dressed in their finery; swaths of silk and velvet tunics tucked inside soft cotton pants. Their formal capes draped over their shoulders to billow down their backs in forest green and fiery red silk.

Loki had watched discreetly from the wood-rimmed mirror as Thor dawned garment after garment, whistling under his breath - so excited for something Loki dreaded. Half of his blonde smooth curls were let to fall free over his shoulders while the top half was done back in a simple braid, leaving his handsome face free of any straying strands. Loki’s fingers had itched to run through them, caress the planes of his face, taste his shiny lips. He curled them into fists instead. Met Thor’s soft smile with a slight frown and walked along with him to the clearing outside the Great Elf Tree. 

The night was a flurry of dresses and capes. Flowers raining down on the dancers from spelled tree branches. A constant motion of colour and music. And Loki’s heart ached as he watched his brother for the first hours of the night. As he danced with both women and men, twirling them around in his arms and baring his neck whenever he threw his head back to let out booming laughs. All the while Loki sulked at the great table, refusing any advances or requests coming his way with a pleasing enough smile.

The Fates’ contempt for Loki must be very great indeed.

As much as he have wanted to excuse himself and retreat to his room, the celebration was an important one, and that he and his brother had been granted attendance was an utmost show of honour to the Allfather and his Princes. It just wasn’t possible for Loki to not attend. So, he braced the commotion and sought out ways to entertain himself so as to not appear as sour as he felt. 

Little mischiefs that have a smirk curling on his thin lips; the flutter of an Elfin girl’s skirts here, the pinching of a stocky archer’s butt there, a little spell on the already magicked branches to spray resin along with the flowers so the dancers will become sticky within the hour’s passing.

Loki has been drowned in thought, eyes surveying the great clearing between the trees where the festival is taking place, searching for his next target, when something light and sweetly scented drops gently on his hair. He startles, embarrassed at having been caught by surprise, and his hand flies to the top of his head to inspect. Soft, velvety petals kiss against his fingertips and, when he pulls it away, he sees a flower crown in his grasp.

This is when Thor takes a step around and comes to stand before him in all his sunny glory. He’s wearing a flower crown of his own. Tiny blue forget-me-nots weaved around crimson red roses, resting on the dirty blonde of his hair, creating such an endearing contrast Loki feels as if he’s looking at some living piece of art.

“Leave it on,” Thor chuckles, taking the matching crown from Loki’s hand with unprecedented care and putting it back atop his dark curls. 

The smile on his lips turns into something tender, sweet, and he doesn’t lower his hand immediately. Instead, he brings his knuckles to brush on Loki’s cheekbone in a gesture he has never repeated before. 

“Lovely.” 

It’s so low a whisper Loki almost doesn’t hear it.

The hand that gets extended in silent request has Loki gasping quietly. He’s left staring speechless at his brother, heart beating against his ribcage with painful force. 

“Dance with me, brother,” Thor whispers, smile still on his face, but subdued. Hopeful.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Thor. The scandal it would cause…” 

They’ve been skirting around this simmering desire of theirs for eons; to let their apprehensions go like this would be a spiralling trip down to madness. 

“The Elves won’t speak a single word. A secret between them and us,” Thor says, hand still waiting for Loki’s. “Please, Loki, just this once.”

Loki stares between Thor’s roughened palm and his brilliant blue eyes. Thor’s flower crown matching his in such obvious a message of their overgrown affections. And it is with a trembling hand that he reaches out and touches Thor’s. 

The smile he gets as a response is blinding, awfully captivating.

He’s pulled on his feet, lead to the very middle of the dancing crowd. Thor’s arm is an iron brand around the small of his waist, his body a furnace against his. Loki’s breath is caught in his chest, soul singing at the sensation of finally being held inside his brother’s arms. 

They don’t start dancing immediately. Instead, they stand there, looking at each other in exhilarating disbelief, arms tangled and breaths mingling. Then, a step. A twirl. The dizzying scent of flowers and their velvety touch as they fall from the tree branches. Glimpses of blue and green and red. The tickling touch of Thor’s hair on his cheeks.

A step away. Separation. Longing.

Thor’s eyes looking at him with something willfully warm.

The joining of grasping palms. The unrealistic press of two bodies, taken over with urgent need to be close to each other.

The music with its passionate tempo, its exultant highs and agonizing lows.

Loki stops in the middle of a step, eyes flying between Thor’s ardent gaze and lips. He cups a hand on Thor’s bearded jaw, watches him as his baby blues flutter shut on a sigh, as he nuzzles into Loki’s touch. Loving sweet. The whisper of a kiss is left on the heel of his palm and, if Loki’s heart could burst through his chest and drop to his brother’s feet, it would do so.

When Thor opens his eyes they speak of a longing so great it can only be a perfect match to Loki’s own. His earlier words resonate in Loki’s mind. _“Please, Loki, just this once.”_

And whom would Loki be, to resist such a chance to have what he has always wanted more than anything else, but a fool?

The press of Thor’s lips to his is something exceptional, mystical. His kiss could break any curse, his breath could bring Loki back to life. It’s marvelous and dizzying and they’re sticky from Loki’s earlier resin spell, but they couldn’t care less.

It’s them. In the middle of a joyous crowd. Wearing matching crowns of flowers that mark them as something more than simply brothers. Lost inside this magnificent kiss. Over the precipice of their affections. 

Falling, falling… 

_To madness it is._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!💕  
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated 🥰💕
> 
> I'm on twitter, [@TheAngryKimchi1](https://twitter.com/TheAngryKimchi1)!


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